


The Angel of Death

by DiYunho



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Joker - Fandom, Suicide Squad (2016), The Joker - Fandom, The Joker Jared Leto - Fandom, The Joker Origins, The Joker suicide squad - Fandom, joker DCU
Genre: Angels, Angels of Death, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Arkham Asylum, Character Death, Childhood Memories, Death, Drama, Explanations, F/M, Feelings, Feels, Final judgement, Foregiveness, Gotham City - Freeform, Heavy Angst, Joker - Freeform, Memories, Near Death Experiences, Original Character Death(s), Past, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Peace, Redemption, Second Chances, Soul Bond, Souls, Suicide Squad, Supranatural, The Joker - Freeform, The Joker Jared Leto, The Joker Suicide Squad, The Joker dcu, The Joker fanfiction, The Joker imagine, The Joker origins - Freeform, Tragedy, Visions, lost souls - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 15:51:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15866811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiYunho/pseuds/DiYunho
Summary: As the Messenger of Death, your fate is to decide who lives or dies. If you spare a mortal’s life, you can either curse or bless them, or do nothing and let destiny determine the outcome. Tonight is a very bad one for Gotham: a lot of souls on the verge of dying. And you are here to sentence them all.





	The Angel of Death

**Author's Note:**

> You can also follow me on Tumblr and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

The ambush went incredibly wrong; the gangsters knew about the stakeout and the mob boss detonated the explosive with everyone in the building: cops and henchmen alike. So many humans on the verge of dying.

Your black wings stretch, gently stopping their movement as you walk over rubble and ashes. You firmly hold the Silver Sword, the only thing shining in the darkness: one side of the weapon is engraved with the curse of the underworld, the other one with its blessing. Only nothingness surrounds you, the glowing white orbs in your eye sockets assessing the aftermath of the carnage.

You halt by the kingpin and bend one knee to bring yourself closer to him. Only souls trapped in between, waiting for the judgement can see you. Your uncanny presence makes him shiver with fear, the pool of blood he’s lying in sizzling as an outcome of the powers bestowed upon The Angel of Death. Your long, ghostly hair touches his shoulders as you decide on his faith:

“You created enough damage. I have a lot of work to do because of you. I am not forgiving when it comes to this. STOP BREATHING!!” your voice echoes in his mind and your ethereal lips touch the man’s forehead: the Kiss of Death. His heart stops and you get up, searching for the rest of the mortals.

Bruce Wayne is not very far. The Batman armor is very strong, yet not enough to protect from such a violent blast. His wounds are fatal, but you linger on top of him, debating.

“I…I remember you…” he kind of smiles, half gone and delirious. Bruce thinks he’s hallucinating since there is no way you are besides him again.

He saw you a long time ago, when he was a child and fell into that accursed cave near the Wayne mansion. He almost died but you spared his life; you didn’t curse or blessed the little boy, you just allowed him to go on.

You have a weakness for lost souls; he is definitely one of them. The goosebumps on his skin alert you it’s time for a decision.

Your sword touches his chest, the piercing words lingering in the heavy air around you:

“I curse you with life, never to find peace unless you keep on fighting. It is your doom and your salvation.”

Bruce groans in pain and falls in a deep daze, but his broken body will survive because you said so.

Commissar Gordon is under a crashed wall, struggling to breathe, barely conscious, which is why you are here.

“Who…who are you?” he manages to whisper, thinking this is a dream. Poor humans, they never recognize The Angel of Death and the blissful contradiction it brings.

Your huge, heavy wings go around him like a misty curtain; James slowly blinks for a few seconds before passing out from the loss of blood. The verdict is quick to follow:

“You did a lot to save the rest. I tend to be forgiving towards those who strive to save others for the greater good. You can go on. BREATHE!!”

You don’t curse or bless him, but the man is allowed to continue his mission on earth.

So many to judge after the slaughter, but it needs to be done: all the policemen and gangsters are taken care of one by one, no other choice but to obey your will.

**************

There is another soul waiting for The Angel of Death: in the Arkham prison, The Joker is fading away. One of the doctors secretly switched his medication, injecting him with a new experimental drug instead of the usual one–just to see what it would do. Who would care anyway; they are all crazy in there, unwanted criminals, forgotten by the rest of the world.

The drug reacted as a poison in The Joker’s body. He was returned to his cell immediately after the therapy, lights out and silent confinement as a punishment for his attitude; that’s why nobody realized he is not well.

So much stillness in the air… and the human cannot move anymore. His eyes are pinned to the ceiling: a small stream of blood makes its way down his chin, dripping on the cold floor where he collapsed, almost unconscious at this point.

The Joker moans in pain under the paralyzing pressure of his organs failing one by one, his dying body responding to your touch: he gets the strength to turn his head and gaze upon you, the enormous, black wings fluttering without any sound.

“It’s… it’s you…” he stutters, remembering the only thing standing out from his horrible childhood:

He saw you that day, a long time ago when he was 10 years old and his father gave him such a beating it nearly killed him. As if it wasn’t enough, the cruel parent tossed his son down the stairs afterwards, ignoring the faint cries for help. His father wanted him dead and left him there, running away God knows where with his tramp. But The Angel of Death decided the young boy should live; you didn’t curse or bless him back then, but he was granted life.

Oh, how fast they were to diagnose his rant as crazy talk every time he mentioned The Dark Queen in the therapy sessions. A hopeless case, screwed up beyond repair.

“My… Queen,” he gasps for air, wanting to touch the Silver Sword; he is so feverish and drained that his hand falls back to the side, while the sentence resonates in his mind:

“You suffered and made others suffer. It’s time to let go. STOP BRE…” and The Joker’s heart slows down, waiting for the end of your command. Your lips are close to his forehead, awaiting the Kiss of Death.

But you have a weakness for lost souls; he is definitely one of them. It’s very rare for you to change a judgment in the last moment, still you need to do it. You get up, the heavy blade rests on his chest, the decision taken:

“I bless you to feel emotions again. You will know sorrow, regret and love; it will be your ruin and redemption.”

The Joker’s body relaxes, immersed in a dreamless nightmare; he will survive because you wish it.

******************

Years went by like they were nothing for you: The Angel of Death is not confined by time or space. Your task is to do Death’s bidding for eternity and it will never change.

Busy again in Gotham: things got worse and worse on Earth in general; this city is no exception. After sentencing mortals to life or death all night, you find yourself kneeling by a familiar human.

The Joker was driving his Purple Lamborghini towards the penthouse when he got ambushed by the police and attempted to escape. He was speeding on the streets of the damned town that made him who he is, when he lost control of the car and smashed into a brick wall by Liberty Street. The impact was so strong that he flew through the windshield and landed in the ditch nearby, every single bone in his body broken to pieces.

“T…The…Dark… Queen,” the mortal mumbles, in shock from so much pain and internal bleeding.

You lean over to look into his eyes which makes him regain a bit of concentration.

“You…you’re so… beautiful…” he coughs, wanting to touch your face but can’t: his limbs are fractured. No human could withstand such forbidden transgression anyway, yet he still attempted: The Joker never forgot about the Dark Queen, the only thing in life he was certain it was real and not a figment of his twisted imagination.

“You had enough,” the judge passes the outcome of his fate. “STOP BREATHING!!” and the Kiss of Death puts an end to his misery.

His heart stops and a faint smile lingers on his lips: after being tormented for so long, you finally have pity and give him peace. The King of Gotham is finally free and The Angel of Death decides one more thing:

“Wait!” you order the soul as it prepares to leave. “Stay with me!”

From time to time, you like to keep strong spirits around you, especially lost souls. And you have a weakness for lost souls.

******************

The Angel of Death is only seen by those on the verge of dying, forever cursing or blessing mortals allowed to go on. The souls awaiting judgement can see one more thing lately: a silent, Dark Shadow to your right, wings blacker than night and blue orbs lightening the abyss.

The apparition never says anything, but sometimes you turn towards it and ask for its opinion even it’s no use—only you can decide:

“Cursed with life?”

Its head nods a yes and the Silver Sword touches whomever you are judging, passing the sentence.

The surreal glow surrounding you while doing this gives the Dark Shadow enough courage to whisper in your mind:

“You’re so beautiful My Queen…”


End file.
